Tillakook Hill
by dotmshockwave
Summary: A short story, not related to anything in particular, one of my own creation. Enjoy. Visit ficitionpress if you want to read it, they may take this down apparently.


On Tillakook Hill

The moon was bright. Looming, over the dim earth below. Shadows scattered themselves about, across the vast rolling landscape, as if trying to hide from the piercing starlight that hung above. Not a sound could be heard, not from anything noteworthy that is to say. Nothing, but the sound of a light breeze rustling through the silent meadows and tall grass that lined the countryside. If, there was a way to travel along the airways of the sky, you would be taken by this gentle wind, and glide over the silent, sleeping body below. You would travel for miles without noise besides that of the earth's own natural doing. Miles, and nothing. Maybe over valleys, mountains, lands, seas, the whole of this world itself. With nothing left to hear, but your own ringing of your ears. Until...

…

The mountain was creaking. If it could be called a mountain. More like, a hill, but larger. Too small for a mountain, too big for simple hill, but a hill nonetheless. Location wise, that was more complicated. If an automobile were to drive straight with one full fuel tank at the base of the large mound, it would have emptied its bowls clean long before ever reaching another incline on the surface of the earth. The land was flat, empty, patched over by spots of Giant Sequoias, dense enough to make forests along the silent plane. One such forest stretched out, covering the visible regions of the hill to the naked eye. Anyone, who knew better, would simply need to walk up this natural highrise to find more buried within. At it's very center, it offered beauty. A large, green, empty field. Covered in perfect grass, with the smell of spring drifting through that cold wind. The scene was all majestically held in place by the lighting of a moon above. Had it not been for that same moon, it would have been easy to completely miss the more dreadful scene at the other end of this quiet paradise. The grassy plain that covered the very tip of the knoll appeared as an arrow if one were to view it from an aircraft. The south end of the empty field, or the tip of the arrow, lead to a cracked, crumbling, desolate sight. Ruins, Of a long time before, sat, slowly deteriorating, waiting to be one again with the earth. At some point the art and architecture of this decrepit structure would have been praised, now it was more merely an afterthought. A place, worn beyond all recognition. If this sight had once held any meaning to anyone, they had all passed away, long before this never ending night. No meaning at all, well except for a single soul. Had this person any connection with this place, who's to say. But there now, a tattered cape could be heard, flapping it's velvet like fabric gently against the solid stone. The cape flipped, and wove, as if it had its own spirit trapped among the tightly wound cloth. It draped downward, every gust revealing what hid in the shadows underneath, with a ray of moonlight hitting the massive armored boot behind. The boot ran upward, revealing more and more of the mass of mechanized metal, barely hidden beneath the tattered burgundy cloth. The more one gazing at the sight looked, the more disturbing the image might become. With the tattered robes engulfing this amalgamation of grey, into what might be a giant dim red splotch in the center of a once grand building. Upon further notice however, and a sharp ear. Labored breath could be made out in between bursts from the air. After a few moments, a titanium hand stretched itself out from underneath the writhing sheet, placing itself on the stone. Deep gashes lay along the gauntlet forearm, and could be seen sporadically throughout the rest of the armor. A bold, beaten symbol of the sun sat in the center of the chest piece. The armor must have been well tested, and told many stories of its wearer's hardships. But, it still was nothing more then a shell, and, when the arm turned, the jetting light of the stars could reveal a quick glance of the soft skin inside.

I was legionnaire and Head Knight James S. Crawford. I served in the 2nd battalion of knights of the Loyalist army. I fought mercilessly against the traitors to our empire. And I have had many victories.

The knight began scratching his armored fingers against the mossy stone. Trying to break away more chunks of the solid weathered rock. He couldn't remember how long he'd been in this place, so long he must have forgotten. He was here for a purpose, but it's as if it had almost slipped his mind, like a thought on the tip of your tongue that just managed to get away before you could explicitly state it. He continued to wait, his cape also continued to whip against the sleek rock. Perhaps randomly, fate was on his side for once, his waiting must have payed off. For while he chipped away at that stone, an event happened. Unnoticeable enough to where he continued to chip. Some while after he became intensely bored, and stopped his needless scratching. He then pivoted his body on his hands to where his back leaned itself against the wall, and he assumed a sort of resting kneel along the ground. It wasn't until he completely situated himself in this position that he finally saw it. His labored breathing subsided at once.

There was a lone archway, the only complete one still left of the large ruined structure. It lay a few hundred feet to the knight's left, whose said gaze was now fixed on it. The moon's light covered all in this ruined place. Except one area. Beneath that archway. And now the shadow beneath the structure had produced a different type of dark. In it was a deeply black mass. So dark, and deep in black, it was if the vaccuum of space itself was held in it. This darkness almost seemed to squirm and slither in and out of itself, like a snake coiled into a ball. The knights helm did not move an inch, it was still aimed directly at this , thing, unwaveried. The more he looked, the more the mass began to change, it began to resemble more and more of a human esque-shape. Eventually, finally forming into a dark shrouded figure, with not a color but jet black, and two bright dots which could have been the eyes, as white as snow, emitting from ,what must have been, the head of the dark form.

I knew you'd come you ghastly disease. All of this, all that happened, it was inevitable that you would show up.

The spectral form shifted a little, but continued its current pose, almost appearing like another statue within the ruined walls.

Yes, I may have ordered the attack, How was I to know! The….. hill was a crucial part to the ….Tilla….Tillakook hill! AHAH! See, I knew I would remember. Yes, it is all so clear now. Like a lamp being lit in the caverns! Have you ever been to caverns dear darkness?

Not a sound was produced from the figure. Nothing, but those two eyes, as if they were illuminated by their own sort of energy within.

Well, even if you have not, they are a very VERY dark place indeed. But, the conquest, yes! I told you we needed to take back that damn'd hill! I remember it now. There was this village, a good few miles south from the hill's position. It was near the very end of the war to say the least. Their forces and ours had been at standstill for some time. We held that village, like Satan holds the gates of hell. We were unbreakable. That, is when the orders came in. My young courier, a strong young lad, read them out to me"Sir Crawford, on orders from the High Chair of the Loyalist Armada, you are to retake Tillakook hill, by any means necessary."

It was at this time the knight arose from the crouched position, the cape flipped and flopped back over its wearer's armored shoulder, resting in its original home. The knight shifted his boots beneath him, their weight digging in and crushing the rock with every step.

So we set out, I ordered ⅓ of our troops to stay behind. We hiked those few miles all the way up to the base of that horrid mound. But something was strange. The traitors, not a peep. The entire journey, no attack, no retaliation, no traps. You would have thought this battle was already won! So, at the base of the dirt pile, I ordered our march. So we suckered up, up the hill. Shields raised, swords ready, firearms loaded. We marched. AND NOTHING! Not a sound. My men were unnerved to say the least. As was I. I had never seen a strategy like this used by those idiots. If this was some elaborate plan, it sure was their best. We had been unable (or unwilling) to take this hill for the longest time, in fears of the most deadly battle yet. And here we were, with no fight, no retaliation. It was marvelous. That was until, we arrived at the scene.

The moon had slowly began to dip across the sky, with every moment, the shadow beneath the archway grew longer, stretching slowly toward the weaponized wreck.

Their encampment was completely barren, not a single soul in sight. It appeared as if they had all just been plucked from the surface of the earth. No disturbance, no sign of struggle. My men were...well spooked out of their minds. But we had been in worse situations before. We stayed composed. And the sun was setting, we needed to rest. So, we took what our enemies had generously left and set up a few bonfires and rested on the hill top. Just in case this was some sort of devilish trick. I ordered my best soldiers on watch to guard the camp. The moon was out, luckily before the sun had set. We were all jabbering and talking about what home was going to be like. My men were excited, the end of their hardship, this ridiculous war. Everything was going to be just fine.

The knight looked about himself, he checked his plates, cracked his tired knuckles. And started fiddling with a device on his right forearm.

Then a few clouds rolled in, one happened to cover the light of the moon. That is when one of the guards, a good fellow named...well names have all faded in memory. He ran into the encampment near the fire. He was indiscernible, weak, mumbling. All we could make out was a few words. Eyes...Millions...eyes. Then, whoosh. The fire was put out. Screams from every direction. I couldn't remember how, but I was running. Fast as I ever have, and ever will. Sometime, somehow, I made it, back to the village. But it was by far too late. Not a soul could be seen or heard. Like they had all been scooped up, from the face of this planet. My reaction was that of pure shock. My biggest failure, I had ordered my troops to their death from this darkness.

He was looking at the ground. At his feet. The moonlight slowly setting far off in the night.

The spectral began to slowly move along the shadow, which creaped more and more toward the now silent soldier. The knights helm clicked and he looked up. Dead, into those pure, white eyes.

But you could never take me could you...After all this time, all this conquering. I've been your most elusive mouse. Always escaping your grasp, your biggest FAILURE.

Somehow, as unnoticeably as before, more white dots grew and rose behind the spectral. More and more, thousands, maybe millions all beneath shadows escaping the moonlight. They squirmed and snaked their way into existence, as if engorging on their own mass. The moon was nearly gone. Darkness began to settle across the countryside.

I was never a true hero, heroes become legends, I will never be that. Nothing more than a mere disturbance to your mind. But at the very least, I will know that whenever you think of me. You'll be reminded how you and all your power were outwitted by a single soul. Just one mind, against many.

Just a sliver of light was left. Being reflected off a light beam, constructed milenna ago, to shine the last light of every moon before morn. Shining on the knight's position. By now, all that surrounded him outside of this small arena of light was a mass of darkness. Millions of pure white eyes, as dead as they were alive. Indiscernible masses of dark. The knight clicked a button on his worn gauntlet forearm. A blade shot out, above his right hand, locked in place by a mechanism above his arm. It dripped with kerosene, which splotched into a small puddle on the floor. With one quick swipe. The knight racked the sword against his leggings. Igniting the blade in a shroud of pure untamed light. He could feel the spark, heating his armor. The moon was now fully set. The darkness across the land closed in, like a enormous monster. Millions of white eyes crawled and slithered their way to the last light on the land. The knight pointed his arm blade.

You were my greatest defeat, and now, I assure you, I WILL BE YOURS.

He thrust his sword high into the air, the large black monsterous mass of moonlit eyes all lunged, but. He struck his sword into the puddle of kerosene. And ignited his fiery doom. Flames engulfed the entire structure, which had been drenched in flammable gas. All the ruins exploded in marvelous light as though a star had been born on the planet's surface. The darkness screamed and writhed away back into the night. And the hill was covered in a beauty of fire.

The breeze in the dark, slowly began to pick up, gently blowing the the tiny bits or charred ash, among the surrounding trees...


End file.
